


Spectroscopy

by bloodbright



Series: Mass Effect works [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, Renegade Commander Shepard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodbright/pseuds/bloodbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much like death, Shepard doesn’t discriminate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spectroscopy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://bloodbright.tumblr.com/post/137321285996/forsythia-holly-and-raspberry-me-wrenegade) for the prompt "raspberry - remorse."

This is a partial list of living things Shepard has killed in the last three years:

* A wide range of mercs of every size, shape, race, and affiliation

Much like death, Shepard doesn’t discriminate. Hazard pay is a standard part of merc employment contracts, but these days there are new clauses popping up. Employers want her classified as an act of God; contractors want double hazard pay and/or the right to withdraw from the engagement.

* More Cerberus troops than you can shake a stick at
* The Illusive Man

She worked with them because there was no other choice for the colonies. The Illusive Man was pleased; he’d planned well. He thought he could control her. He never met her face to face, or he would have seen it: the coiled rage boiling behind her eyes, twisting back on itself, tightly leashed, waiting to explode—

Did they know what they’d brought back? Sing, O goddess, the wrath—

* One (1) batarian bartender

That one felt good. When he choked on his own poison she took a deep breath, all the way to the bottom of her lungs. She smiled at Garrus, angry and pleased to be so, and he smiled back with the new hard glint in his eyes, and she knew that no matter what he’d have her back.

At least two people bought her drinks afterward.

* Joram Talid, sleazebag politician extraordinaire

Thane’s kid pointed his gun at the turian’s head, his hands shaking, the frills at his throat fluttering convulsively. He’d never killed before. There would be no coming back from this.

Shepard rolled her eyes. She raised her gun, casual; took the shot.

* Dr. Saleon

That was the lesson she tried to teach Garrus, though it would be years before he understood it: one life or a billion, it’s the same. Someone has to make the decision. Make it, or get out of the way.

In chronological order:  


* The rachni queen (twice)
* The Thorian
* 300,000 batarians
* The Reapers, and with them the last remnants of around 20,000 separate sentient species

How many genocides would you say that is?

Shepard makes the call. She bears the responsibility, and for that they call her the Butcher of Torfan, as if the meat grinder weren’t exactly what they wanted from her.

#

The last thing she said to Garrus was this: That’s an order, Garrus. Go.

Then she turned and ran. No hesitation. No looking back.

#

There was never a tango. Somewhere in this brave new world someone’s contemplating what a turian-human baby might look like, but they’ve never been on the Normandy. No one around here has agreed to be a one-turian woman.

And yet—

Shepard, you who made a career on never flinching, never wavering, on taking the shot no one else would; who once sniped an innocent pyjak from a mile and a half away with a crosswind, just to win a bet—

A single moment of softness atop the Citadel. You miss.


End file.
